


Surprises

by austenfan1990



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 07:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austenfan1990/pseuds/austenfan1990
Summary: Almost immediately after taking the sacrament, the newly-wedded Ann(e)s discover that there is still much to learn about each other.





	Surprises

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Tumblr prompt: “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself” and written for phantomdivine.
> 
> My first _Gentleman Jack_ fic... or rather, a somewhat more dramatic (and very unrealistic) ending to the first series. [In the words of dear Miss Lister: ‘Don’t hurt me’ (please).]

‘Not just a pretty face,’ declares Anne, smiling. Perhaps the elation of this morning has gotten the better of her tongue because Ann casts her a sharp, sidelong glance.

‘Are you being patronising? I can tell when you’re being pat –’ Annoyance flashes in her blue eyes. ‘Put your watch _away_.’

‘I wasn’t being patronising.’ Anne stares at her watch, somewhat sheepishly, before tucking it into her waistcoat. Recovering herself, she says, ‘Seriously, you’ve got to stop having such a poor opinion of yourself.’

‘I don’t when I’m with you, I told you. But I can still tell when you’re being patronising.’

‘I wasn’t being patronising…’

They continue in this vein for some time; half in earnest, half in jest, but wholly enjoying each other’s company. But they find themselves taking a wrong turn into a narrow side street and Ann is the first to notice.

‘Surely this isn’t the way to the carriage?’

‘Indeed it is not,’ agrees Anne. She checks her watch and this time Ann does not protest. ‘I propose we turn back. Thomas should be waiting –’

‘A little lost, are we, ladies? Allow me to escort you back – for a fee.’

A man materialises before them, well-dressed, but his clothes are decidedly in want of repair. His air is one of languorous danger. He has no visible weapons on him, but Anne is not keen to test her theory.

She pushes past him, saying as she goes: ‘Thank you for your offer, young man, but we are quite capable of finding our own way –’ She feels the distinct sensation of a shiv-tip poking into the small of her back.

‘Let me rephrase that, _ma’am_. I insist that I escort you back.’

Anne curses under her breath. Why had she not brought her walking stick with her? (Oh yes, it was because they were getting married. Who contemplates bringing a stick to a wedding?)

‘Anne!’

She turns her head, just enough to see a whirling dark blur. Instinctively, she lurches forward and ducks.

Seconds later, the man crashes to the ground. His shiv clangs noisily after him. Anne kicks it out of reach. Standing over him is Ann, brandishing her reticule. She is breathing heavily, eyes wide in surprise rather than fear.

‘Ann!’

‘I –’

There is a groan from below. Their would-be assailant is out momentarily, but it is clear that he will be on his feet soon.

‘We have to leave. Now.’ Anne takes Ann’s arm and they hurry towards York Minster and, more importantly, people. There is always safety in numbers. (Though, muses Anne, if these people knew what they had just done…)

‘Anne, are you all right?’ asks Ann, breathlessly.

‘Hmm?’ For the second time this morning, Anne is caught off-guard. ‘Oh, yes. Quite. Are you?’

Ann nods. Anne leans in closer and Ann murmurs worriedly, ‘You don’t think I’ve killed him, do you?’

‘Oh, no,’ Anne assures her. Truth be told, she’s forgotten about the cad already. ‘He’ll probably stagger his way home with a sick headache, at the very least.’

She motions towards Ann’s reticule, now tightly gripped in her gloved hands. ‘What on earth do you have in here?’ She gives it an experimental tug. ‘It is awfully heavy.’

‘Oh.’ Ann blushes profusely. ‘I – I brought a rock from the pit.’

Anne nearly stumbles on a cobblestone. ‘You brought –’

‘I know you’ll think me silly but, you see, I brought it for luck.’ Anne gazes at her steadily. ‘I took it the day we both returned to Halifax.’ Anne is now smiling broadly at her. ‘Oh, you _do_ think I am silly –’

‘On the contrary, Miss Walker, your foresight is extraordinary. It’s really a novel idea, a rock in a reticule.’

Ann beams at her. ‘Despite what you think, Miss Lister, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.’

‘I have no doubt of it.’ If they were alone, she would kiss her. She makes do by warmly taking her hand. ‘Do you know that you have also developed quite the knack of surprising me?’

Ann squeezes her hand in return. ‘I’m glad to hear it, because I do have some further surprises in store for this evening.’

‘My God, Ann!’ laughs Anne, both in wonder and delight. She lowers her voice, genuinely curious. ‘Would you care to share some of them beforehand?’

‘Willingly, but then it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it?’

‘Mm.’ Her thoughts return to the unusual lodger in Ann’s reticule and her excitement is palpable when she says: ‘Ann, what would you say if I named the new coal pit after you? Let us call it, perhaps, the “Walker Pit”?’

‘Oh, Anne,’ sighs Ann, taking in the endearing and maddening bundle of complexities that is her newly-wedded wife. ‘You are really quite incorrigible.’

**Author's Note:**

> Anne really did end up naming a pit after Ann. On 17 October 1834, she wrote in her diary: _“...[my coal] to be pulled at this new pit (to be called Walker pit in compliment to A[nn]) will make (at 8d a load) a great deal more than Rawson’s [coal]”_. 
> 
> What’s also amazing is that remnants of Walker Pit still exist to this day. :)


End file.
